


The Peace Of Wild Things

by Edge_of_Clairvoyance



Series: The Older Brother Verse [8]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Action, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Brother Feels, Brotherly Love, Case Fic, Discipline, Domestic Discipline, Family Feels, Gen, Hunters & Hunting, Hurt/Comfort, Non-Consensual Spanking, Pre-Series Dean Winchester, Punishment, Spanking, Switching, Young Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-06
Updated: 2020-02-07
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:34:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22588735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Edge_of_Clairvoyance/pseuds/Edge_of_Clairvoyance
Summary: "You didn't think the Penghou was as dangerous as a werewolf. You didn’t think it was dangerous enough to keep your little brother away from it. You underestimated an opponent, Connor, and it made you think Dean's decision to disobey wasn't all that wrong. But it was. Dean, you were underestimating the Penghou as well, that's why you left the car. You weren't hurt or killed tonight; it might not be the case next time. I'm not gonna let my sons die because of their own stupid bravado. Go cut the switches."
Relationships: Dean Winchester & John Winchester, Dean Winchester & Original Winchester Character(s), John Winchester & Original Winchester Character(s)
Series: The Older Brother Verse [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1065803
Comments: 35
Kudos: 57





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The story contains parental spanking of minors and some Winchester-style language, if it may disturb you - please don't read.
> 
> I strongly recommend you read [Beneath Your Wings](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15178313) before reading this story, as it will introduce you to this AU.
> 
> The author would like to thank Script Doctor for his encouragement and for the dialogue ideas; and [happy_to_be_here](https://archiveofourown.org/users/happy_to_be_here), [ToscaRossetti](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToscaRossetti/pseuds/ToscaRossetti), and [CrazedPanda](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrazedPanda) for their lovely feedback and thorough beta work.

Connor placed the last candle in the circle and stepped back to examine his handiwork. He thought he had done pretty good setting up the site, but John Winchester was known for having notoriously high standards.

Said John Winchester marched into the clearing just then. "You finish it?"

"Yes, sir." Even though he was almost eighteen years old and had been hunting with his father since he was barely ten, Connor couldn't help that nervous flutter in his stomach as Dad slowly walked around the clearing, looking over what Connor had prepared for the ritual. The clearing only measured about fifty yards in diameter, but Dad seemed to take forever, and Connor actually let out a sigh of relief when the old man nodded.

"Okay, that'll do. You can light the candles while I go scatter the spices. Wait for fifteen minutes, then start burning the incense. I'll patrol around the perimeter for a while longer, see if I can be sure it's biting. You stake it out here, I'll join you."

"Yes, sir."

Dad smiled briefly at him and clapped him on the back before turning to leave the clearing, and Connor couldn't resist the smile that curled his lips. He could afford it, though; there was no one here, in the middle of the woods, to see him beam at the slightest sign of approval from his father.

As the sounds of Dad's boots crunching on the leaves and the glow of his Maglite drew farther away, Connor took the lighter out of his pocket and crouched to start lighting the thick candles he had just finished arranging. He crab-walked from one to the other, lighting them as he went. The flames flickered on the brass tokens with the square holes and Chinese characters that were placed between the candles.

The hunt was a complicated one. Under the guise of a wildlife control agent, Dad had talked to an eye witness who had seen the creature and, somewhat doubting her own sanity, described it to him.

It had done little good at first, because Dad couldn't think of any kind of being that looked like a black dog with a human face and no tail; they were starting to think the woman might not have seen it as clearly as she had declared. But Bobby, as usual, had come up with the solution. The next thing Connor knew, they were knocking on the back door of Liu Wei's Traditional Herbs & Spices.

The pleasantly-smiling Liu Wei had sold them everything they would need in order to lure in the Penghou creature – at an outrageous price, in Connor's opinion – and also explained to them how to set and perform the ritual correctly, for which he hadn't charged them extra, providing they would bring back the Penghou's liver and testicles. Connor had wondered how the middle-aged man could have been so sure the creature actually _had_ testicles and not ovaries – if it indeed had any kind of reproductive system at all, since it had supposedly grown inside a fucking _tree_ – but kept a lid on it and helped Dad tote their overflowing grocery bags to the Impala.

Setting the trap was simple enough. The concoction of spices Dad was to sprinkle in a wide circle around the perimeter would draw the Penghou in against its natural caution. It would then be close enough to catch the scent of the special incense Connor would be lighting in the middle of the clearing.

Once the creature crossed into the circle of candles and blessed tokens, all it took was an incantation to close the trap; the Penghou wouldn't be able to cross the line back out of the clearing. From then on, it would be just like shooting fish in a barrel. Killing the creature took no special weapon, Liu Wei had assured them – any old bullet was enough to ice it. He had also promised they could safely eat it afterwards if they wanted to; its flesh tasted much like regular dog meat. Dad had smiled politely at that, and Connor did his best not to let his abhorrence show on his face.

Dad had decided to let Dean come on the hunt; Connor had protested, but to no avail. Dad had been training Dean since he was six years old, and it had done the kid a world of good, helping him with self-discipline and providing him with a way to use his excess energy. All of that training had to lead to actual hunting eventually, even though Connor had hoped it wouldn't happen for a very long time. But in the end, it had always been Dad's decision.

The kid had been tagging along with them for a nearly a year now, although only on milk run cases, and mostly just for the salt and burn part of the hunt. Even that was too much for Connor's taste – he would much rather have Dean safe and sound with Sammy at whatever place they called home at the time.

At least Dean was as safe and sound as could be right now – nearly a third of a mile away from the clearing, inside the Impala, with all the doors locked and an assortment of weapons at his disposal, and with strict orders from Dad to stay put until either he or Connor came to get him.

From Dean's expression as he had watched his father and brother walk away, Connor could tell he would have a very hard time waiting patiently. He hoped Dean would be able to overcome his eagerness and curiosity; self-control was at least as important as bravery and marksmanship for a hunter.

Apparently, he hadn't been.

There was crunching of leaves behind Connor and he turned, glancing at his watch to make sure he wasn't late in starting on the incense, but it wasn't Dad who strode into the clearing.

"What the hell are you doing here? Dad told you to stay in the car."

Dean took a few more steps into the clearing and glanced around. "This looks really neat."

"Answer the damn question," Connor moved toward his brother, fully ready to start swatting if he didn't deliver some explanations soon. Dean backed up a little.

"Don't get mad. I was worried, you guys were taking so long, I didn't hear anything, no gunshots, and I thought-"

"That's a load of crap. You knew we'd take some time to set the trap and then to stake the creature out. It hasn't been even an hour and a half, for Christ's sake."

"It seemed a lot longer," Dean said, but he was shifting uncomfortably in a way that told Connor he was lying, and was fully aware that Connor knew that he was.

"Okay, enough of that," Connor said. "Get your ass back to the car before Dad gets here and kicks it into orbit."

"Can we talk about this?"

Connor had to shake his head to make sure there were no lint or bugs inside his ears that had damaged his hearing. "What?"

"There's no real reason why I shouldn't be on the hunt," Dean said. "This Penghyu creature-"

"Penghou."

"Right. It's not all that dangerous, is it? I mean, it's basically a dog. I can help you stake it out. I can hide in a bush or something, and I can hit it from there-"

Connor rubbed a hand down his face. "I'm not having this conversation with you, Dean. That _dog_ has killed two people-"

"Because they cut down its tree and pissed it off-"

"-and you are _not_ going to stay here, in or out of a bush or anywhere it can get a whiff of your scent. You're gonna get your ass back to the car _right now_ -"

"Isn't that dangerous?"

Was the kid _seriously_ arguing with him? "You just said the Penghou isn't all that dangerous."

"Yeah, I mean…" Dean shuffled his feet and transferred the sawed-off he was carrying from one hand to the other. "You said it was, and Dad must have laid down the spices by now, so it's probably already coming this way. You want me to go back alone?"

As much as Connor didn't like to admit it, his brother had a valid point. "Fine, c'mon, I'll take you back."

"Wait, what about the incense?" Dean pointed at the little tripod incense burner that sat in the middle of the clearing. "Shouldn't you be burning it right about now?"

Connor glanced at the burner, at his watch, then at the burner again. Dad had said to start burning the incense in fifteen minutes, and Dean – again – had a valid point; if the Penghou was indeed around, it would have already noticed the spice concoction and made its way toward the clearing. It was the perfect timing to provide it with the final bait before it lost interest and moved away. If Connor were to take Dean to the car, he could miss the chance to trap the Penghou in the circle.

Connor heavily suspected Dean had the entire thing planned out.

But there was nothing but innocent anticipation in his little brother's face, and Connor scanned the trees around them, the circle of candles, the incense burner, then his watch again.

_Damn it._

He had to make a decision, and he did. "I want you over there, between those two leaning trees, gun at the ready. Do _not_ get brave, you hear me?"

A grin lit up Dean's face. "Yeah, Connie, sure." The next minute he was bouncing toward his appointed post, and Connor prayed he hadn't made the wrong call. He almost had a thought to tell Dean he was going to take him to the car anyway, but another glance at his watch got him moving toward the center of the clearing.

He knelt by the burner, Zippo in hand. There was a whole ceremony for preparing and lighting the incense, Liu Wei had told them back at his shop, but an incense cone would save them time and work just as well. Connor couldn't be sure the guy hadn't sold them some commercial brand they could have acquired at any department store for a fraction of the price, but if they had to go up against another Penghou sometime in the future, Connor was definitely going to bring this up.

He touched the lighter's flame to the tip of the cone, waited for it to catch fire, then gently blew it out, leaving it smoking like a tiny volcano about to erupt. It took another moment for him to start noticing the odor – it was pleasant, like baby powder and lilac and a tang of something he couldn't name but that was gently prickling the inside of his nostrils and down his windpipe and making his lungs expand, as if every alveolus was being cleansed by the smell.

He stayed for a minute or so by the burner, just breathing that nice scent in, then stood up. As soon as he did, he could feel it; there was something in the darkness beyond the circle of candles, watching. Connor drew his handgun slowly and cocked it while turning in place and scanning the woods. With his other hand he reached to pull the note with the Chinese incantation out of his pocket. Liu Wei had written it in English letters for them, and Dad and Connor had practiced it, but there was no way Connor could memorize the strange, foreign words by heart, not to mention remember the correct intonation.

He started backing away from the center of the clearing, still eyeing the woods around him intently. "Dean, be ready," he said in a low voice. There was no reply, and Connor risked turning his eyes to where Dean was supposed to be waiting.

The kid had advanced a few steps away from the cover of the trees, sawed-off at the ready.

"Dean?"

"I see it," Dean said softly. "It's there."

Connor followed his brother's gaze; the candles, and the tokens reflecting the light, made it hard to tell if there was indeed something in the shadows. "Dean, get back."

Dean took another step forward. He was already at the edge of the circle of candles and tokens. "I can hit it. I just need to get a better aim."

"No, get the hell back," Connor started moving toward Dean while keeping his eyes on the spot where Dean was pointing the gun. "Get back right now."

But Dean didn't get back. He took a few steps more, lifting the sawed-off so he could level the sights as he took aim at the still-invisible Penghou. Connor let out a curse and hurried to get to his brother, momentarily taking his eyes off the Penghou.

When he glanced back to where Dean's gun was trained, he saw a black chunk of night moving from the darkness into the circle.

It indeed resembled a dog, but only on first sight; it was the size of a Great Dane, completely black, with no tail. When it turned its face, Connor could see it was human-like – not like a man's face plastered onto a dog's body, but rather a dog's face all distorted to resemble human features. It looked so wrong it was hurting Connor's eyes.

Connor was so fixed on the Penghou, he had missed Dean's progress until the kid had come to stand almost parallel to him.

"Dean, get out of the circle," Connor said. He kept his eyes trained on the Penghou, and brought the hand that held the scrap of paper up so he could read the incantation and still keep the Penghou in his sight.

The creature inched its way forward, eyeing both boys warily and jerking back as Connor wriggled the paper to unfold it. But the creature seemed almost mesmerized by the incense, and it crept forward, hopelessly attracted by the source of sweet scent in the middle of the clearing.

Connor started reciting the incantation. He tried to keep in mind the way Liu Wei's voice sounded when he taught them how to pronounce the words, but the adrenaline swamping his brain made the memory foggy. At the same time, he tried to stalk aside to get closer to Dean. The Penghou jerked again at the movement.

"It's gonna bolt," Dean breathed out. "We're gonna lose it."

"It's not going anywhere, get the fuck _back_ ," Connor desperately hoped the break in reciting the incantation wasn't going to impair its efficiency, and resumed uttering the foreign words as the Penghou resumed its advance.

Connor was getting near the end of the spell, but Dean was still holding the sawed-off raised and pointed at the Penghou. Connor didn't like that; the risk of a shot going off was too big. He tried to step up the pace of his reciting, while keeping an eye both on the Penghou and on Dean, all at the same time.

The creature seemed to be getting excited as he drew near the incense burner, and lurched forward to cover the few feet that separated them. The final syllables of the incantation were still on Connor's lips when a gust of wind made the damned paper fold in on itself. He flicked his wrist sharply to straightened it, making the Penghou jolt. Before Connor could do anything, Dean's gun fired. 

Connor saw the spray of dirt the bullet raised when it hit the ground where the Penghou had been only a second before. Dean's sawed-off blasted again, but the creature was almost at the other edge of the clearing. Jesus, it was _fast_.

Connor shouted the last word of the spell and raised his gun as the candles suddenly burst into magnificent geysers of blazing sparkle, making the circle into a ring of light so brilliant, Connor had to shut his eyes and raise an arm to shield them. Even from behind the cover of his arm and through closed lids he could still see the brightness of the fire, and then it died down. He opened his eyes carefully.

The candles returned to their previous state. The Penghou was at the edge of the circle, looking warily at the nearest candle, and then attempted to cross the line out of the clearing. It reached its front paw, and immediately snatched it back with a sharp bark of pain. The spell worked – the creature was trapped.

Connor dropped the note he had been holding and covered the last few steps to where Dean was standing; the kid seemed to still be a little dazed by the firework spectacle. Connor grabbed his arm – none too gently – and started dragging him back. He didn't know what the Penghou was capable of doing when cornered. Or rather he did; there were two dead bodies to show for it. They should first get to safety, and then they could take their time target practicing.

Except when Connor reached the line of candles and tokens, he bumped into a wall.

More accurately, he bumped into a fucking _firewall_. The hand holding the gun had been stretched forward before him, and the tip of the barrel passed over the border uneventfully. It was when Connor's hand reached the line that a sudden blast of pain hit it, as if he had put his hand to an open flame. He yelped, dropped the gun and pulled his arm back, somehow managing a fleeting thought of how he must have resembled the Penghou at that moment. A second later, the situation became clear in his mind, and his stomach clenched with horror.

The spell had worked all too well. Dean and he were trapped inside the circle with the Penghou.


	2. Chapter 2

There was a sound of heavy boots stomping and a violent rustling of vegetation, and a moment later Dad appeared out of the underbrush to their right. He stopped at the edge of the circle and scanned the scene before him, taking it in, then raised the gun he was holding.

"Get the hell outta the circle," he said, and fired. The Penghou screamed and scampered away, then turned its human-like face at them and growled. A chill rolled down Connor's spine.

"We can't," he said, keeping his eyes fixed on the Penghou as he crouched and felt for his dropped weapon. "We're trapped."

"Whaddaya mean, trapped? The man said only the creature-"

"The spell went awry, or I said the incantation wrong. Whatever it was, it trapped us too."

The Penghou moved – not with the same blinding speed as before, it seemed to be trying to make up its mind about the best spot from which to attack. Connor stood up, aimed and took a shot; he didn’t really expect to hit the thing that had proven to be fast enough to move a split second before the shot was fired, but it would at least serve to teach it the humans were dangerous.

"Fuck," Dad drew a breath, and stepped forward. "I'll break the circle, then."

Before Connor could protest, Dad kicked the nearest candle. The thick wax cylinder was uprooted from where Connor had stuck it in the ground, and thrown a foot into the circle. Its flame died in a ribbon of white smoke.

Damn it, now the Penghou would get away. And it already had a taste of the trap, it might not fall for it again, might be able to resist the spices and the incense next time. Connor anxiously watched as the creature observed the fallen candle, and turned to try and cross the line. It howled when its paw touched the invisible border. Somehow, the circle was still in effect. But would it hold the humans as well?

The burn Connor felt when he gingerly reached his hand to the line behind him was answer enough. "The trap's holding."

"Made in China," Dad muttered. He fired at the creature, sending it scurrying over to the other end of the clearing, then stepped over to the next candle in line and kicked it.

The Penghou turned and snarled at them, and Connor winced as Dean's sawed-off roared. The Penghou rushed away from the point of impact and then uttered another blood-chilling growl.

They had to move fast. Dad was already kicking a third candle, and Connor realized the old man was intent on breaking his sons out of the magic circle more than he was on ganking the Penghou. He didn't think Dad would listen right now if he were to tell him it was okay to ice the creature first and get them out later, so he looked over at Dean.

"We need to get that thing before Dad destroys the trap," he said.

Dean glanced at the Penghou, who was pacing along the perimeter, watching Dad as he kicked a candle and sent some of the tokens flying as well. "How're we gonna do that? It's fast as hell."

"It's not fast enough to dodge a bullet. It reacts to our motions when we prepare to fire, and moves before we pull the trigger. So all we gotta do-"

"Is not let it see us taking a shot," Dean finished the sentence. "How do you want me?"

Connor peeked to see Dad kicking another candle. They had to hurry. "Over there. Be ready when I distract it."

Dean slipped aside along the clearing's border. Connor moved the other way and took a shot at the Penghou, aiming to the side Dean was creeping to in order to scare the creature away from him.

"The fuck are you up to, boy?" Dad killed a candle and glared at Connor. "You need to stay back, the thing's gonna attack."

Connor put two more bullets into the ground near the Penghou, making it yelp and bolt away. "We're finishing it. Dean!" He pointed the gun at the human-faced dog, making sure he had its full attention as the creature tracked his motions watchfully.

Then the boom of the sawed-off came, and the Penghou went down with a screech that sounded more human than any of the noises it had uttered before. Without allowing himself an instant of second thought, Connor rushed to where it fell and drained his magazine into the creature. The black body danced with the impact of the bullets, but as the hammer started clicking on empty, it was as still as can be. As still as death.

Connor stood there, trembling, absently noting Dad was running around the clearing and demolishing the rest of the candles Connor had placed there so carefully. It had been less than half an hour ago, but felt as if a lifetime had passed.

With every candle Dad had kicked, the light diminished until they were engulfed in darkness. There were some clanking noises, then a Maglite's beam pierced the gloom.

"Outta the circle, fucking _out_ , right now!"

Connor pulled himself together and approached the border carefully. He extended his hand, expecting to feel the scorch of the magical firewall, but there was nothing. He crossed the wrecked line of candles and went over to where Dad was standing, checking Dean for injuries with brisk pats and rubs. When he was done, Dad wrapped his arms around the kid in a bone-crushing hug.

"I'm fine," Connor said when Dad let go of Dean and turned to him. He stood still while Dad patted him down, and leaned into the man's hug. The intensity of the embrace showed how much Dad had been scared for him. Connor was going to pay dearly for this.

At last Dad let go of Connor and stepped back. Dean moved to stand by Connor's side, as if sensing it was time to seek shelter.

"Okay," Dad drew a breath and straightened his back. Connor stood the same height as Dad, but at times like now, he felt as if the old man grew a few inches taller. "Dean, I told you to stay in the car."

"Yes, sir. I just… I wanted to do my part."

"Your _part_ is whatever _I say_ is your goddamned part. You had no business being anywhere near this place until the Penghou was dead." Dad turned his gaze to Connor. "You should have dragged his ass back to the Impala. Instead I see him in the circle with you, aiming a gun at the creature. You wanna explain that?"

 _Not really_. "I was already about to light the incense. Taking him back would have wasted time-"

"Taking him back would have kept him _safe_ ," Dad shook his head. "I'm not fucking hearing this. Not from you. Not from the guy who was all over my case about taking the kid hunting in the first place."

It hit hard enough for Connor's face to feel like it was set on fire. He wanted to reply, but his lungs weren't pushing enough air out through his windpipe. At last he managed to whisper, "I'm sorry, you're right. It was my fault."

"Connie, no," Dean looked up at him, then at Dad. "I didn't leave him any choice. I knew you were on a schedule with the ritual, and I knew Connor wouldn't botch it. It wasn't his fault."

"It _was_ my fault, Dad. I'm the oldest, it was my stupid call to let Dean stay."

"No, it's- _ow_!" The squeeze Connor applied to Dean's arm cut his words short.

Dad rubbed a hand down his face. "Enough of this now, both of you. I want this site cleaned up, and then I'll deal with whoever needs dealing with."

"Yes, sir," they chorused.

Connor got the shopping bags out of his duffle and Dean and he started picking up the candles and tokens. Candles were always useful, and the tokens Connor thought they should also save; even if they didn't need them for another spell, they could always sell them to some hunter or a shop like Liu Wei's. Worst case scenario, they could melt them and use the brass. Besides, the tokens were blessed, and Liu Wei had said they were lucky. Connor slipped a couple of them into his pocket; he needed all the luck he could get.

While they were at it, Dad went over to the carcass and drew his bowie knife. Connor assumed he was cutting the parts Liu Wei had asked for, and hoped his wild shooting hadn't damaged them. If they need to pay the store owner for the discount the creature's parts were supposed to cover, Connor had no doubt it would be coming out of his ass.

When he was finished, Dad left them in search of a Camphor tree. The one the creature had grown in had been cut down – it was what had set the Penghou free in the first place – but Dad wanted to bury its remains near another tree of the same kind. Dad didn't usually tend to be this sentimental, but after meeting the Penghou, Connor thought it was fitting; the creautre wasn't really a blood-thirsty monster, and it deserved better than it had gotten from the world of man.

By the time the boys finished bagging everything, Dad had returned and wrapped the Penghou in an old tarp, then led them to the tree he had found. They dug a shallow grave, put the body in it, salted it and set it on fire. As the flames burned themselves out and the hunters started covering it with dirt, Connor fished one of the tokens out of his pocket and put it over the remains. He didn't know a whole lot about Chinese traditions of burial, but he hoped they had done right by the Penghou.

At last Dad nodded to signal they were done. They shouldered their shovels and their bags and silently made their way back to the Impala. Dean had drifted closer to Connor as they walked, and if Connor didn't have his hands full at the time, he would have laid a hand on the kid's shoulder. He could feel Dean was scared, he was too, for that matter; Dad's opinion of their disobedience was clear, and there was only one way this night was going to end.

Dad let them load everything into the trunk while he got their camping lantern, turned it on and placed it on the roof of the Impala. Connor had a pretty good guess what Dad wanted the light for.

Dad strolled back around to the back of the car as Connor slammed the trunk closed, and both boys turned to face him. Connor eyed him carefully; the old man looked calmer now, collected. On the one hand, this insured that whatever punishment he was going to dish out wouldn't be overly done. On the other hand, he had had plenty of time for his anger to mature into that cold, harsh type that didn't bode well for his sons.

Connor glanced at Dean by his side, and raised his eyes to Dad. "Sir, may I say something?"

Dad seemed to consider for a second, then nodded. "Go ahead."

"I take full responsibility for everything that happened. I should have taken Dean back to the car the minute he showed up at the clearing. I shouldn't have let him talk me into helping, and once I did, I shouldn't have let his presence make me screw up the spell. This was my fault, and I'm the one who deserves to be punished for it."

"So, you think Dean isn't to be blamed for anything?" Dad's tone wasn't sarcastic or accusing; Connor couldn't decide whether this was good.

But the man was actually willing to hold a discussion over this, and Connor wasn't going to drop the chance. "He is, a little, yes. He was impatient and reckless. But he's still got a lot to learn, and I should've been the one to watch out for him."

Dad looked at Dean. "What do you say?"

Dean seemed startled at first; he wasn't used to being asked for his opinion on these kinds of matters. But he came to quickly. "I disobeyed a direct order. It had nothing to do with Connor."

Dad nodded. "I agree. Go cut a switch." His eyes shifted to Connor. "You too."

Ice flooded Connor's insides. Dad rarely found a reason to punish him, and when he did, it was either taking Connor off hunts, or making him do extra training. He hadn't been whipped in _years_ , and he didn't really believe he would be whipped now; but he guessed he should have known the option was on the table as far as Dad was concerned. Besides, it would only be fair he got the same as Dean did.

Except Dean probably didn't think so, because he stepped forward. "Dad, no, please. It wasn't on Connor, any of it."

Connor moved to grab his arm as he did before, but Dean saw it coming and dodged his grasp.

"I left the car," he said hurriedly, as if trying to rattle out as much as he could before someone could shut him up. "I came to the clearing. I left Connor with no choice but to let me stay. I practically forced his hand. He would've never done anything to risk either me or the hunt on purpose, you know he wouldn't've, Dad."

Dad looked intently at Dean as he spoke, and then at Connor. "And why did you? Let him stay?"

Connor wasn't ready for this. He fumbled for words. "I just… I thought that if he stayed outta the way it'd be okay."

"Would you have done that if you were staking out a werewolf?" Dad asked.

"Huh?" The question threw Connor a bit off balance. "Of course not."

"Why not?"

"Because… well, because…" he stammered to a stop. Dad nodded.

"Because you didn't think the Penghou was as dangerous as a werewolf. You didn’t think it was dangerous _enough_ to keep your little brother away from it. You underestimated an opponent, Connor, and it made you think Dean's decision to disobey wasn't all that wrong. But it was," Dad's gaze passed to Dean again. "You were underestimating the Penghou as well, that's why you left the car. You weren't hurt or killed tonight; it might not be the case next time. I'm not gonna let my sons die because of their own stupid bravado. Go cut the switches."

"Yes, sir," Connor responded, with Dean just a beat behind.

"You're gonna cut four switches each. Don't bother stripping them yet, just bring them here," Dad said.

"Yes, sir," Connor looked over at his brother. The kid raised his eyes to him, face visibly paler than it had been a few minutes ago. Connor wrapped his arm around Dean's shoulder. "C'mon, buddy."

He walked Dean to the woods nearest the car. He didn't want to go too far, and they didn’t need to. There was an assortment of trees and bushes right there.

Connor let Dean step a little to the left and stepped to the right. He turned his penlight to and fro, and spotted a young dogwood that seemed to have suitable branches. He spent a few minutes walking around the tree, selected four of them and chopped them off. He didn't strip them completely from the twigs and leaves, just cut the largest ones so the shape and size of the switches would be easy for Dad to judge.

When he was finished, he looked to see how Dean was doing; he saw the kid about fifteen feet away by an oak and went over there.

"You done?" He asked.

"Yeah, I- I think," Dean fumbled with the switches he had cut and with his knife, trying to put the latter back into his pocket without dropping the formers. Connor held all of his own switches in one hand and took Dean's, so his brother could pocket the knife. He used the chance to take a look at the branches – Dean picked good ones, long and straight. Connor tried not to think about one of those assaulting Dean's ass.

"Okay, let's go back," he said softly once Dean took the switches back. Dean nodded, and Connor gave his shoulder a little squeeze as both of them started making their way to the Impala.


	3. Chapter 3

Dad was leaning against the trunk with his arms crossed over his chest. As the boys drew near, he pushed off the trunk and made way for them to approach. They each laid their switches on the shiny black metal – Connor noticed how Dean tried to do so gently, as to not scratch the paint job – and waited while Dad came to stand between them and study the switches in the lantern's light.

"Which would you pick?" He said, and Connor glanced up from the branches to see Dad looking at him. What the hell? But Dad must have seen his confusion, because he went on, "Which of these is best, in your opinion, to give you what you deserve?"

Connor blinked at him, then focused on the switches. This night was getting weirder by the minute, and not because of the fucking Chinese monster. He eyed the sticks he had cut. His first thought was that he should pick the one Dad would have picked, but he brushed it away; Dad wanted him to choose the one _he_ thought he deserved, and he knew which one it was even while it had still been attached to the tree. He pointed at it.

Dad nodded. "Prepare it." He swept the other three off the trunk as Connor picked up the switch and pulled out his knife, and turned to Dean. "Which would you choose?"

Dean was ready for it, he didn't hesitate. "This one."

Dad nodded again. "Okay, get it ready." The same as with Connor's switches, he tossed the others away and stood waiting for the boys to finish smoothing out the switches. He examined them as they placed them back on the trunk, made Dean go over his again, then took off his coat. It made Connor's stomach drop. He drew a breath and stripped off his own coat, nudging Dean and motioning him to do the same.

They laid out the coats on the trunk – they were most likely going to bend over it, it seemed only logical to have some kind of padding – and Connor wondered how it was going to be done. Would Dad send one of them to stand a little away while he dealt with the other? It wasn't new for Connor to watch Dean being spanked. Hell, he had been doing it himself on a regular basis. But on those rare occasions when Connor was the one getting his ass handed to him, it was never in front of his younger brothers. Never.

He was not going to enjoy that privilege now; that much was obvious when Dad looked at him and said, "You're first."

"Yes, sir," Connor started undoing his pants. God, this was so much difficult than he thought it would be. He tried not to look at Dean, standing to his left, and was relieved when Dad approached the car in between them and partly blocked Dean's view. Connor hooked his thumbs in the waistband of both his jeans and boxers, about to push them down.

His gaze was focused on the coat on the trunk in front of him, but he also had the switch, resting right next to it, in the corner of his eye. As Dad moved in, Connor expected him to pick up the switch, but he didn't.

Instead, he picked up Dean's switch.

Connor turned, still gripping his pants, wanting to make sure he wasn't mistaken, but Dean was already talking, "That's my switch, sir."

"I know," Dad held it in his right hand, and now he did pick up Connor's switch and moved it to rest closer to Dean.

This made Connor's breath catch; the switch he cut was sturdy, proper for him, not for his little brother.

"That's- that's my switch," he said, feeling somewhat stupid for pointing it out. Of course Dad knew it was.

Dad turned to him. "If I'd've told either of you to cut a switch fitting for the other, you never would've chosen sticks like these, because neither of you was willing to blame the other for what had happened. But you're both responsible, and you're each going to feel what kind of punishment the other one thinks he deserves." He glanced at Dean, who was looking up at him with his eyes big and round, then looked back at Connor. "Let's go."

Fresh out of further arguments, Connor faced the trunk again and pushed his pants down and the tail of his shirt up. Then he leaned to place his forearms on the coat, and tried not to think about the switch Dad was about to swing. His own switch was something to be reckoned with, but his little brother's overactive sense of guilt had led him to pick a piece of branch formidable by its own right.

And it certainly felt formidable as it came down on his ass for the first time, and Connor gasped and bit off the curse that almost slipped past his lips. _Fuck, that hurt._

Dad didn't give him a chance to recuperate; the switch swished and struck, and Connor fisted his hands into the coat he was leaning on, tightened his jaw and dropped his head as the switch bit at his flesh over and over, working its way down over his rear.

Connor tried to count – mostly to take his mind off the pain, not because he actually cared how many he was getting – but as the damned stick reached the top of his thighs, he lost the score; it didn't seem as important as breathing just then.

He didn't think Dad would settle for one set of strokes, and indeed he didn't; the switch landed on the highest part of his naked rump, and now the sting of that long-ago first stroke seemed like nothing at all in comparison.

Connor didn't expect Dad to go easy on him, that would have been fucking stupid considering what he had done; but he didn't take into consideration how much more painful the switching was going to feel after years of not having his ass so much as smacked. Dad had used his belt on him the last time, but either the years had dimmed the memory, or the leather indeed wasn't as bad as the wood.

The switch kept hitting, lower and lower, sometimes finding unmarked skin, but other times crisscrossing the welts it had left on its previous passage. The fire it was building seemed to flare hotter with each stroke. Connor lifted his right hand, crammed the wrist into his mouth, and groaned into it. His eyes were burning and it took all he had just to stay still – his body yearned to twist away from the nasty piece of wood and his knees were starting to buckle.

But he had Dean to consider.

His little brother was standing right there, on Dad's other side, no doubt gaping at Connor and dreading the moment his turn came. It was Connor's responsibility, his _duty_ as the older brother to keep face, not to shatter Dean's certainty that Connor was strong enough to take this, strong enough to protect him. Because he was; it was what he had been doing since Dean had been born, more so since their mother died. It was his fucking _job_ and he had screwed it up. Whatever Dad was dishing out was barely enough to settle that score.

The switch landed again on the top of his thighs, but there wasn't another swishing sound following the stroke. When the silence lingered, Connor allowed himself to believe it was over.

Dad's hand touched the back of his neck, first just resting there, then rubbing a little. "C'mere, kiddo."

Connor pushed himself up and let Dad gather him into a hug. He leaned his head on Dad's shoulder and felt the man's long arms wrap around him. Connor hugged his little brothers plenty – out of affection, of course, but not just; they had no mother and their father was absent more often than not. Connor couldn't replace either, but he could make the younger boys feel the same way he remembered feeling when Mom had hugged him, or Dad – when he wasn't distracted, or tired, or drunk, or angry, or just plain not there.

Dad was here now, really _here_ , hugging Connor – not just offering a quick embrace with a few brisk pats on the back to boot, but actually holding him tightly against his firm body, and the tears Connor had been holding back started streaming down his face.

"It's okay, son," Dad's voice murmured in his ear. "Shhhh, it's okay."

Only instead of calming him down, the soft tone made Connor tremble harder, and his breath hitched more sharply. _Don't cry out loud, don't cry, fuck, you'll scare Dean, don't cry-_

Except he didn't care about scaring Dean, not right now. And he _could_ cry if he wanted to, he had a fucking _right_ to cry. He had been the older brother for so long, he had forgotten what it felt like to just be a son.

He eventually calmed down. It didn't take more than a few minutes, at least he thought so. He wasn't used to letting go like this, even if it wasn't really outright bawling, just some barely-audible whimpers. As the tears and trembling subsided, the shame started creeping back in. This whole business had been his fault, and he couldn't take the punishment like he should have. And not even with his own switch, but his little brother's, for Christ's sake.

He must have started squirming a little in Dad's arms, because the old man moved away somewhat and held Connor's chin up. "Okay?"

Connor nodded and sniffled. "I'm sorry about all of this."

Dad nodded back, wiped his cheeks, and let go of him.

Connor bent to pick up his pants and dragged them over his burning backside, just barely stifling a groan. He took his time buttoning up the jeans – his turn was over, he had no reason to rush it. But the truth was, he was trying to postpone meeting Dean's eyes. He could see Dad moving to Dean's other side, but he hadn't talked yet or ordered the kid into position. Dean was just standing there, and Connor was running out of buttons.

He finished buckling his belt, pulled his coat back on, and then couldn't put it off anymore. Connor took a breath and turned his head to the left.

He saw exactly what he feared he would – the light of the lantern glistening in Dean's tear-wet lashes, over his trembling lips. Without even realizing it, Connor started reaching out to touch him, when Dad spoke up.

"Connor, hands on the trunk."

The crisp order brought him back, and he laid his palms flat on the trunk's surface. It wasn't as cold as he might have expected; his coat and whatever body heat it had absorbed made the metal almost pleasant to the touch.

Dad didn't say Connor wasn't allowed to look at Dean. He wasn't sure he would have looked away even if Dad had told him to – Dean seemed too rattled and scared for Connor to take his eyes off him.

Dad had come to stand behind Dean in the meantime, the switch – Connor's switch – at the ready. "Move it, Dean. Pants down and bend over."

"Yes, sir," Dean's hands were visibly shaking as he attempted to work his belt buckle free. He managed it at last, unzipped and pushed his jeans down, then his boxers. He assumed the same position Connor had – forearms resting flat on the coat spread over the trunk, his bottom sticking out. His bare skin seemed very pale against the night and the light of the lantern, his frame slim and fragile, his breaths coming out fast and shallow and frightened. Connor felt a sudden urge to cover Dean's body with his, shelter him. He even started to move his hands, then thought better of it.

What did he need to shelter Dean from? The kid had earned an ass-beating, and Dad wasn't going to give him anything he couldn't handle, even using Connor's dogwood branch.

Dad leveled said branch and tapped Dean's thigh. Connor could see Dean wincing a little at the touch. Dad drew his arm back and brought the switch down, and now Dean didn't just wince – he cringed and let out a sharp yelp, and Connor caught himself at the last second before his hands came off the car.

He made himself press his palms down on the metal. Dad knew what he was doing, and it wasn't Dean's first rodeo, either; the kid even managed to quickly correct his position before the switch landed a second time. He cringed again when the wooden stick hit, but maybe not as much as before – Connor guessed the first stroke had a surprise effect to it as well.

Dean didn't cry out aloud at the second stroke. He had bent his head all the way down and pressed his mouth on his forearm. Standing that close, Connor heard the stifled sound his brother made. It somehow felt more miserable than the cry he uttered before.

The switch came down again, and again, and yet again. Connor absently kept count of the whacks while monitoring how Dean was doing; the kid was flinching with each stroke, shoulders tensed and eyes shut so tight his brow was creased. His whimpers were growing a little louder, even though he was still keeping his mouth pressed to his forearm.

Like he had with Connor, Dad was moving the switch steadily down over Dean's ass. Connor couldn't see exactly where the old man was hitting, but he knew Dad had reached the top of Dean's thighs when his brother gave a lurch and a shriek, his body abruptly straightening up so his elbows weren't even touching the coat anymore.

Dad's hand stilled in the air. "Back in position, Dean."

Dean didn't move at once; he stood there, his body shaking with his sobbing breaths, tears running down his cheeks. Connor glanced back at Dad, and then let his hand slide over the trunk until it met Dean's.

"It's okay," he whispered. "I'm here, buddy. You're doing fine."

Dean didn't acknowledge him, not outright, but he did seem to get himself under control. Without turning his head or even opening his eyes, Dean settled back down. But he angled his hand so he could hold Connor's fingers even while he returned to his former position.

Connor waited to see if Dad would say anything about it. He didn't. He just raised the switch and brought it down. Dean's fingers clutched Connor's and Connor squeezed back. He kept his firm grip on Dean's hand while Dad laid a few more strokes. Dean was weeping now but he didn't break position again, even though his legs were visibly shaking.

Dad took a step back, snapped the switch in half and tossed it away. Connor pulled his hand gently out of Dean's grasp while Dad leaned over him, rubbing his back.

"We're done, kiddo. You're okay. It's over."

Connor watched as Dean's trembling slowly lessened and he swayed slightly with Dad's hand as it kept rubbing soothing circles on his back. Dad stopped so he could hold onto Dean's arm and pull him up to lean against his body. Dean curled into him, hiding his face in Dad's chest, and Dad embraced him and bent his head so his mouth was near Dean's ear.

"It's okay, I've got you, son. You're forgiven."

Connor waited with his hands on the trunk while Dad held Dean and murmured to him. There seemed to be nothing but gentleness there, as if this wasn't the same man that had whipped both their asses hard enough to bruise only moments before.

But it was. The man who threw drunk rages so bad Dean and Sam came seeking shelter in Connor's bed, was the same one who had tucked them in with such love and care they never once doubted he could keep the nightly monsters at bay; the man who had been absent for days and even weeks at a time, was the same one who knew how to tell each of his sons' moods just by glancing at their faces, and how to make them feel better with a word or a touch.

It was the same man they respected and feared and resented and loved with all their hearts.

Dean stayed leaned against Dad for a while longer, sniffling quietly. Dad had stopped murmuring, and just stood there with his arms around Dean, the fingers of one hand idly brushing through the kid's hair.

The wind picked up. The trees rattled around them. It made Connor glance aside, partly expecting to see another Penghou sneaking up to them. But there was nothing there. Of course there wasn't; the Penghou they had ganked had only been out and about because the axes had destroyed its home. Otherwise it was perfectly content to continue sleeping inside its Camphor tree. Connor glanced back at Dean in their father's arms. As much as his little brother loved running wild and free, he needed a Camphor tree of his own, one he knew he could come back to.

Dean slowly straightened up. Dad held his face with both hands, raising it to him.

"Okay, kiddo?" He asked softly. Dean nodded. Dad ran his thumbs over Dean's cheeks, wiping them. "When I tell you to do something, you do it. You hear me?" His tone was still soft.

Dean nodded again. "Yes, sir. I'm sorry."

Dad pulled him in a little to plant a kiss on his crown, then let go of him. "Good boy. Get in the car."

Dean snuffled, passed an arm over his nose and carefully bent to pull up his pants while Dad gave Connor a nod, gestured at the Impala's rear door, and strolled to the driver's side.

Connor waited for Dean to finish putting on his coat and stepped closer. "How're you doing, buddy?"

"I'm fine," Dean wiped the last of the moisture from under his eyes and tilted his face up. "I'm so sorry I got you in trouble. I meant it when I told Dad it wasn't your fault. He shouldn't have punished you. I'm really sorry."

"Hey, it's okay," Connor wrapped his hand around the back of Dean's neck and drew him a bit closer. "We're good. Gimme a hug." Dean's arms tightened around his waist as Connor embraced him. It was a shorter hug than Dad had given them, but it was alright. It was enough.

With his arm slung over Dean's shoulder, Connor walked him over to the car's door, held it open for him, and shut it once Dean was settled inside. He walked around the car to the other side, then paused with his hand on the handle.

His ass was throbbing like hell. How the fuck was he going to sit on it while Dad navigated the pothole-riddled dirt road? He closed his eyes briefly, took a breath and opened the door.

He could see Dean eyeing him while he maneuvered himself inside, sat down, and almost immediately started to fidget, trying to find a position that would put the least weight on his poor bum.

Dean's chuckle made him look up. Connor frowned at him. "Somethin' funny, squirt?"

Dean shook his head, still giggling. "You're not used to sitting on it, are ya?"

Connor wanted to keep glowering, but Dean's eyes were sparkling and his smile was so bright, Connor couldn't resist smiling back. "No, guess I'm not. You're the pro, any tips?"

Dean shrugged. "Try to think about something else."

Connor groaned. "Thanks a lot." He did his best to settle down as the Impala rocked gently along the wood trail and was overwhelmed with relief when Dad finally turned onto the paved road.

He let out a sigh and allowed himself to relax a bit and lean back in his seat. He glanced at Dean, who peeked up at him, a little smile still playing in the corner of his lips. Connor slid his arm sideways, circled Dean's shoulders and pulled the kid into his side. Dean willingly snuggled up to him, and Connor tilted his head so he could rest his cheek on his brother's head.

"You did good today," he said quietly. "I mean, beside the part that got our asses blistered. You were gutsy and perceptive and proficient. You should've stayed in the car just the same, but I want you to know you were fucking awesome."

Dean was silent for a moment and then, quiet and hesitant, "You really… you really think so?"

"Yeah, I do," Connor squeezed him a little tighter and felt Dean pressing into him. "Just try to do better about following orders, huh?"

He could hear Dean's grin in his voice. "Okay, Connie." There was a pause, and then Dean said, even more quietly, "Thank you."

Connor smiled. "You're welcome, buddy."

Outside, the darkness was deep and vast, but inside the Impala there was a little nest of dim light and cozy warmth and familiar noises that were steadily lulling Connor to sleep despite the pulsing ache of the switch's welts. He was thinking about the Penghou again. He hoped the creature had found its peace – under the Camphor tree, if not inside it.

It was a faint hope, he knew. But he had learned to make do with those.

**Author's Note:**

> I borrowed the [Penghou](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Penghou) from Chinese mythology and added some stuff of my own.
> 
> [The Peace of Wild Things](https://onbeing.org/poetry/the-peace-of-wild-things/), by Wendell Berry
> 
> Like my works? Want to subscribe and get updates on new stories? Make sure you subscribe to the **user** and not the specific work!


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